


A Year in Retrospect

by FreckledSkittles



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, For two seconds - Freeform, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mike Dodds Lives, Multi, POV Multiple, Smut, Vignettes, i mean if you ask me he is anyway so, the most canon divergent thing ive probably ever written, why is this not a tag justice for vignettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:08:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28634496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreckledSkittles/pseuds/FreckledSkittles
Summary: Mike Dodds' first year at Manhattan SVU. He couldn't predict it if he tried.
Relationships: Nick Amaro/Mike Dodds, Nick Amaro/Rafael Barba, Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 35





	A Year in Retrospect

**Author's Note:**

> A couple weeks ago when I was planning my road to my 100th fic on ao3, my brain came up with the idea of Mike Dodds' first year except there's Domaro and Barisi and canon doesn't matter bc they're all in love and happy and I love them alright  
> My mental health is a struggle rn but at least Barisi is alive and thriving hahaaaaaaa
> 
> And yes that's dialogue from Townhouse Incident except changed in a way that doesn't victimize Olivia Benson (AGAIN)

“ADA Barba, this is Sergeant Mike Dodds,” Benson introduces the latest addition to her squad. Mike is eager to finally put a face to a name who has garnered attention both in and out of court, but the same cannot be said for the ADA, who simply raises an eyebrow when Mike shakes his hand with a quick smile.

“Dodds,” he repeats. “Right. I hope this isn’t a babysitting gig on the Deputy Chief’s behalf.”

Mike expected something to that extent—his father couldn’t stop talking about him and didn’t realize the dichotomy of his words. As much as they praised him for his duties and actions, they reflected onto Mike as a pampered kid who got where he was because of his father’s connections. “Even if I was, you don’t work for us,” Mike shrugs. “I’m here to help Lieutenant Benson any way I can and get justice for the victims and survivors.”

Barba smirks. Mike can tell from the glint in his eyes that he’s gotten off on the right foot with him. “Good.”

* * *

“I like the new guy.”

Nick snorts and says nothing, continuing his skim of the morning paper and sipping his coffee. He’s not surprised Carisi has already warmed up to the new Sergeant. The man was as open and friendly to meeting new people as a golden retriever.

Rollins, sat across from Nick, rolls her eyes and stands. Her stance has gotten a bit wobbly as her pregnancy has progressed, but she does it on her own with her head held high and a fierce glower for anyone who tries to stop her. “My hormones are too fucked to listen to this right now.”

Nick chuckles at the pout Carisi gives her. “Better you than Rita, right?” He teases.

“That’s what I keep telling myself.”

“Barba’d probably agree to that,” Carisi muses once Rollins leaves. “Apparently, Rita’s been reading every baby book she can get her hands on.”

Nick leans back in his chair with a stretch. “I did that when Maria was pregnant. She called it second-hand guilt or something. I’m not the one carrying the baby so I better find another way to make myself useful.” Carisi laughs at that; Nick can only imagine what he’s experienced with his sisters. At least neither of them brings it up so he isn’t sitting here for three hours again. “What were you saying about the new guy?”

“Just that I like him,” Carisi says. He sits in the chair Rollins had occupied and crosses his arms on the table. Interesting—his tie is a deep burgundy, almost maroon, and contrasts nicely with the light gray of his suit. When did he get so in-tune with color coordination? Not that Nick is an expert on dressing nicely, but he expected Barba to pair those colors together in three different ways before Carisi even tried to think about them. “I dunno. It feels like he fits with us, y’know?”

“I think so.” Nick pauses before taking a long gulp of coffee. “The same thing happened with you.”

Carisi’s eyes light up but he doesn’t pursue the train of thought any further. “He’s got that energy like he can pick a fight if he wanted to but his heart just wouldn’t let him unless he wanted to. Like a bear.”

“The animal or the gay subculture?”

Carisi blushes and nervously chuckles. “The animal. But I wouldn’t put the second one past him. It feels like not being straight is a requirement to be in SVU.”

Nick laughs and clinks their coffee mugs together. Perhaps the sergeant will make a good fit if Carisi—Sonny—was able to find his way.

* * *

Rafael pushes past the people in front of him and rushes off the elevator in a near sprint. As dramatic as he could be, he should have known better than to get Judge Evans to sign the warrants SVU needed. She always took her time to read every word and ask two questions for each one. He would have run to SVU if he was in better shoes.

The squad room is devoid of the detectives he’s looking for but he can see Amaro, Fin, and Olivia in her office. Without knocking, Rafael bursts through the door, panting and holding up the folded blue slips of paper. Nick and Fin turn and jump at the bang of the door. Liv informs the team on the other side of her phone that the warrants are in before hanging up.

“Just in time,” she smiles as Rafael hands the papers to her.

“It was between Evans and Wagner,” he breathes out. “I went with the lesser of two evils.”

“I would have gone with the old white dude,” Fin says. “Might have saved you a few brain cells.”

Rafael’s glare would pierce through him if he wasn’t so tired. He’ll settle for a weak glower of exhaustion for now. “Thanks for the advice. I’ll remember that next time I need a judge to sign two warrants that should have been signed yesterday.”

“That’s on your office this time. We did our job.”

“That’s true,” Amaro hums, his half-smile grating every single one of Rafael’s frayed nerves. “Madison should have had it done.”

“He’s a junior ADA and he had four other cases thrown in his lap at the last second,” Rafael retorts. “Give the man a break.”

“You got the warrants,” Liv cuts in, “and that’s what matters.”

Rafael sags into one of the chairs in front of her desk. “You owe me a drink after this.”

* * *

“Anyone use a heavy bag in the weight room?” Dodds asks. He holds up his duffel as he crosses the locker room floor. “I brought my gloves.”

Fin and Nick, the only ones in the room right now, both look up. “You box?” Fin prompts. Nick’s interest piques a bit.

“Yeah,” Dodds sets his bag in his locker, “I did Golden Gloves and pro-am. You?” He gets into a stance, hands raised a bit and legs spread, almost making it look natural with how quick and graceful it is.

Fin snorts. “I don’t wanna hurt you.” He nods behind him; Nick knows he’s the only person he could refer to, and he quickly bows his head as if he hasn’t been listening. “Nick, on the other hand…”

A glint of light flashes in Dodds’ eyes and he drops his hands. Nick’s stomach lurches at how enamored he looks. “Really? Since when?”

“I picked it up after the Academy, but I didn’t get into it until I got here,” Nick says. “It’s helped me get used to my knee again, but it makes for good stress relief, y’know?” He sees the cautious look Fin shoots him and has to add, if only to cover his tracks, “Not for anger management, just, y’know, the work stuff. The therapist said it was counterproductive to box when I’m angry anyway.”

Dodds nods. Nick has no clue how much Dodds knows about his history, but he wouldn’t put it past his father, and Liv on a precautionary level, to update the new Sergeant on the bouts he’s experienced that have threatened to spiral out of his control. “Yeah, I get that. My old sparring partner out of the Army struggled with that.” A warm smile grows on his face, and Nick grips the side of his locker door. “But if you ever need a sparring partner, I’m available.”

Nick nods, unable to form the proper words to agree with or confirm the offer. He has a crush on Sergeant Mike Dodds. That’s the only reason why he can be so shocked by this man. He—Nick Amaro, a man who has silently accepted he is what his kids would call a “disaster bisexual”—has romantic feelings for his coworker—Mike Dodds, the son of a deputy chief of the police department, a man who is the size of a bear with the temperament of a labrador retriever.

The door opens and Carisi pops his head in, his brow drawn as he scans the room. “Good, you’re who I wanted to see,” he says to the group. “Lieu just got in. We got a call at a townhouse. Possible hostage situation.”

Dodds, upon hearing his concern, snaps out of whatever trance he had been in and hurries out of the locker room, Fin and Nick close behind him. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Barba looks up when Sonny knocks on the door and waves a manila folder in the air. “Order for one R. Barba?” Sonny says with a smile.

Barba smirks and nods to the coffee table by his door. He’s standing at the coffee maker in his office, refilling his cup for what must be the sixth time today. It’s only ten a.m., but Barba’s usually had that much to drink on any given day. “I wasn’t expecting you for another hour,” he muses. “I thought you would have stopped by to force me to eat at lunch.”

“You’re assuming I haven’t planned on that already.” Sonny grins when Barba chuckles at that. As their relationship has evolved since his arrival last year, he’s found it easier to compete against the smart wit and quick tongue of the Manhattan prosecutor. There’s a certain finesse to it, a specific way of playing with words for a specific purpose, whether it be teasing or intellectual. Sonny believes he’s developed a sort of niche for being able to compete with Barba, and the appreciation for it is clear when he engages and fires back at him.

“Well,” Barba sighs, dramatically exhaling and playfully rolling his eyes, “if you have to, at least make it worth my time.”

“Always.” Sonny drops the folder on the coffee table to his left and pulls out his phone. “I can’t stay for long, but I’m happy to put in an order for something.”

Something in Barba’s eyes softens, and he abandons the coffee maker to walk over to him. “You don’t have to do that.” He raises his hand, as if to hold his arm, but he drops it, almost appearing resigned. Sonny’s heart clenches at the look he’s given; for a brief second, it almost looks like longing, some deep desire that wants to say more.

“I want to,” Sonny assures him. Since they’re so close now, he gently pats Barba on the arm, right across his bicep. His palm lights up with heat at how warm Barba is, even through a layer of clothing. Without his suit jacket, there’s only so little of a barrier to keep up. And it’s clear in the small shudder and sharp inhale that Barba experienced a similar feeling. Sonny offers a smile and drops his hand, his palm cold and the contrast jarring. “So, what’re you up for today?”

* * *

Mike and Amaro—Nick, the man suggests, and Mike perks up at the privilege of using his first name—end up scheduling a friendly sparring match. But they spend more time sparring with their tongues than their gloved fists.

Mike hadn’t planned any of this. He hadn’t meant to develop a crush on Nick—the call at the townhouse saw both of them at work, but Nick’s expertise in serial attacks and his accurate call at the underlying nature of the situation put him at the forefront of the issue. Watching him at work, with and without direction from Liv or Mike, was mesmerizing. He was a compelling physical force, but to watch him working with his intelligence at play, supplying quick-action comments to officers and directing database searches on the perps, he’s mesmerizing. It’s a disappointment to think that he couldn’t become a Sergeant. Amaro’s history was complicated, but it shouldn’t be overshadowed by the progress he’s made to combat the anger issues and grow and learn from them.

Mike had planned a day at the gym. But he hadn’t meant to stare a little too long at Nick’s shirt, spread across his biceps like a second skin, the sleeves cutting off just over his shoulders, and clinging to his pecs and defining the muscles more than they already were. As if they needed any more. Mike can’t help but ogle him; he tries to rein in his obvious thirst before Nick sees him, but it doesn’t work. Nick is staring at him, fierce and curious and suddenly yearning just as much.

And despite not regretting his decision to surge forward and kiss Nick, Mike hadn’t planned on doing something immediately after developing his crush. It usually took him a while to act on his feelings, mostly from his own efforts to trample over his own feet, especially with people who were already friends. His fear of ruining whatever relationship was already between them often won over his own desire for romance. But with Nick, it’s different.

Nick is working on putting his gloves on, but Mike doesn’t bother with them. He steps forward, gently takes Nick’s face in his hands, and kisses him. For a moment, he thinks Nick is going to push him away, his fists curled into his shirt at his shoulders and body tense beneath him. But then he realizes the fists are tugging, and Mike’s back hits the locker behind him. Nick’s hands are everywhere, unrelenting, grabbing his hips and digging into them. His leg sits between Mike’s thighs, his knee inches away from arching up. A flare of want explodes in Mike, sudden and fierce and terrifying, and he pulls away with a gasp.

“Holy shit,” Mike pants, eyes sliding shut for a moment while his breathing slows. The space between him and Nick is tightly packed with heat and desire, and he leans into it, “Shit.”

Nick chuckles under his breath. “That’s one way to address your feelings.”

Mike rears back as if scalded. “I’m sorry, I should have asked first, I just got carried away—”

“It’s okay.” Nick kisses the tip of his nose, a bit shy but the sincerity shining through the gesture. Some of Mike’s anxiety wanes; he should have asked first, he should have made sure Nick wanted this just as much. There were much better ways of doing this than what he did. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while.”

Mike slowly smiles as Nick pulls their bodies closer together. “Then how about we go back to that?”

* * *

Rafael halts a few feet away from his apartment door. There’s a frumpled body sitting in front of it, hoodie worn and hair frumpled. The last he had heard, Carisi’s undercover stint had been completed, but Rafael didn’t expect them to reunite so soon. There was much more that had to be done before then, and he had made peace with that. And yet there he is, ruffled hoodie and all. The flop of his hair over his forehead, free of any style or gel, appears to have more grays in it than when they last saw each other.

“Sonny,” Rafael breathes out, and Carisi is rising to his feet as Rafael steps forward and brings him in for a hug. He refrains from pulling him close, remembering the injury he had earned undercover, but Carisi makes the step forward to bring them within a breath’s width of each other. “I didn’t expect you for a few days. Your injury—”

“Don’t care,” Carisi sighs, nuzzling his nose into Rafael’s hair and inhaling. “I just wanna hold you.”

Rafael rests his head on his shoulder as Carisi—Sonny, he corrects himself, he hasn’t been Carisi for a while now—wraps his arms around him. He believed in Sonny’s ability to do his job, but he was still concerned for his safety. Having him to hold and know that he’s physically okay—he’s alive, he’s well enough to come to Rafael’s apartment—is, at the very least, a heavy weight off of his shoulders.

A tender pair of lips press a kiss against his forehead. Rafael’s stomach flips at how soft they are, at the emotions conveyed in such a simple gesture, when they’ve barely had the chance to talk about their relationship. The farthest they got was, before Sonny went undercover, a shared moment behind a courthouse pillar that eluded to something deeper, something their banter and the easy flow of their interactions couldn’t define. Sonny had looked at his lips a bit too long as if he was planning on kissing them and robbing Rafael of his breath. He would welcome it with as much desire and passion as he could muster if they hadn’t been whisked away by prior duties.

And thankfully—finally—they have the time to do that. Rafael celebrates the realization by yanking Sonny down by the nape of his neck and kissing him. The response he receives, the eager push back and tighter grasp wrapped around him, reassures him that this is the right decision.

* * *

“So,” Olivia begins, glancing from the paper in front of her to Mike and Nick sitting in front of her desk, “these are your official disclosure papers.”

Mike nods. “Yes.” Nick reaches over to squeeze his hand in reassurance. “We know we both talked about it with you, but we weren’t going to file anything until we were absolutely sure it was alright.”

Olivia smiles at that. “And stop you two from being happy? I don’t think so.” She picks up her pen and stares at the paper for a moment before she signs it, her looping signature neat below Nick’s quick scrawl and Mike’s heavy lines. A swell of joy floats in Nick’s chest at the display. Just one more signature—the Chief of Detectives—and they can be public about their relationship. Olivia passes the paper over to Mike and shares a grin with them. “Congratulations, you two. You make a great pair.”

“Thank you.” Mike glances at Nick, the admiration glowing in his eyes. “I’m happy to have someone like him.” He squeezes his hand back, and Nick’s heart soars.

* * *

There’s only so much space in the hallway that holds the bathrooms to Forlini’s, but Rafael is irresistible to Sonny. Every time he looked over at him, Sonny’s heart tripped over itself. Every minuscule movement performed was answered with a slight reach forward, first a twitch of fingers and then a sliding of palms. When Rafael leaned over to whisper a request to have a private discussion, Sonny could only follow along, eager to talk or make out or simply exist with Rafael in the same space.

(Thankfully, it was to push Sonny against the wall and shove his tongue down his throat, and there was absolutely zero protests on Sonny’s part. They had a big win under their belt. They deserved to celebrate together.)

Sonny scoots down further against the wall and tilts his head to gain more access to Rafael’s mouth, licking inside and tangling his hands in his hair. Rafael groans in his mouth and bucks against him. It feels surreal to share so much with the prosecutor. From dinners to intimate moments like this to the bare minimum during a stressful day of work, there was always something for them to share. Sonny is happy to take whatever he can, but there is no way he will ever stop finding something else to share.

“I mean, I’m not gonna see your support for the Mets as a betrayal, but I will have to try and help you see—oh.”

Sonny and Rafael stop kissing and stare at the two men who have suddenly walked up to them, Mike eying them with wide eyes and Nick looking on with amusement. Perhaps there was such a thing as oversharing.

* * *

“Why did you  _ really _ invite us here?” Nick asks. Rafael and Sonny had been adamant in having lunch—a double date, Nick had argued, but Mike wanted to see it as anything but. They were still on call, after all, no matter how nice they may be for what Rafael was calling “a casual outing.” The man has never been casual in the year that Mike has known him, and he’s more than confident that both Nick and Sonny can attest to that for the amount of time they have known him.

“Can’t we go out with friends?” Sonny says with a shrug. He had brought up doing something to thank Mike and Nick for not saying anything about their relationship until they had disclosed it. Rafael had been the one to discuss buying lunch with them. It was the least either of them could do, especially when they had been discovered with disheveled clothes and occupied lips.

“Not like this.” Nick waves to the seating around them: white tablecloths, ornate plates, a fresh aroma of food beyond the kitchen doors that eluded to a hot meal, not something fast from a deli or cafe. The menus were laminated lists held in leather and typed with a looping font. “Barba’s idea of lunch is drinking a week’s worth of coffee.”

Sonny pauses at that and hums. “That’s fair.” Rafael nudges him under the table; Sonny continues. “But really, we just wanted to have lunch with you guys. No ulterior motives.”

Mike and Nick share a look but say nothing. In retrospect, he’s only spent a year at SVU, but Mike has gotten to know the team well enough throughout that time, regardless of the romantic attachments to one of them. His relationship with Sonny was definitely the closest one he had besides Nick. Mike knows Sonny’s levels of kindness and he knows this lunch is more than that.

“Well,” Nick raises his glass, “to no ulterior motives.”

The four clink their glasses together in a toast; Rafael, Sonny notices, practically downs his drink. If they weren’t on a break from work, they might all need some heavier form of liquid courage to get them through lunch.

Nick sets his glass down and props his elbows on the table. “So, what else can we expect from this no-ulterior-motive outing?”

“Stop calling it that,” Rafael grumbles.

Mike steps in before the two can butt heads; the last thing anyone needed was for Nick and Rafael to have a go at one another. “Sonny, have you put any more thought into changing jobs now that you passed the bar?”

Sonny recognizes Mike’s efforts to limit any conflict and nods eagerly. “Oh, yeah! I think I’m gonna spend another year on the force before I make the move.”

“That’s awesome,” Nick says—backing off for now, thankfully—and smiles at Sonny. “Congrats, Sonny. You’d make a great prosecutor.”

Sonny gives a shy laugh and glances away. “Thanks. My ma made a real stink about it, saying I should just do it already so that I can be safer. And she has a point, but she also didn’t like that me and my sisters all moved off of Staten Island.”

“I bet she’s at least happy you have the option and want to do it.”

“Oh, yeah! She just worries about me, y’know, since I’m her only son. Her heart’s in the right place, even if it seems like it’s not.”

“Reminds me of my mother condemning me living in Manhattan,” Rafael adds with a smirk.

Nick chuckles at that. “Latinx and Italians really are cut from the same cloth.”

“You would know.”

The lack of animosity that had, just moments ago, been broiling on both of their faces is jarring to Mike. He’s seen Rafael and Nick, on separate occasions, ease off of their haunches and continue a conversation away from the conflict they had been seconds from starting. To see them do it with each other is jarring, to say the least. Sonny seems wary of the outcome, though not as confused as Mike feels.

Rafael catches Mike spacing out and gathers his attention. “What about you, Dodds? Surely your Irish Catholic roots have some sort of cultural similarity with our backgrounds.”

“A little, yeah,” Mike nods, “but probably not as much, since my dad’s been a cop since my brother and I were kids.”

“I mean, it’s not like you were close to being the most stereotypical anyway,” Nick says with a nod to Sonny, who pouts at the accusation.

“I thought it was a good thing,” he huffs. “What happened to praising my sauce as the best you’ve ever had?”

“I took some creative liberties.”

“Or you’re a liar,” Rafael points out, giving Nick a teasing wink when he glowers at him.

“You  _ know _ I’m not. I’ve proven that to you.”

“How’d you do that?” Mike asks.

Rafael and Nick share a look, eying one another with a neutral understanding. Nick is the first to react and smirks at him. “You wanna say it?”

Rafael shrugs and looks between Mike and Sonny. “I have no issue with it. Nick and I used to be what you would call ‘fuck buddies.’”

“Fuck buddies!” Sonny practically hollers. All three men at the table shush him. Sonny runs a hand through his hair and stares at his boyfriend. “When did this happen?”

“A year or so before you joined. It didn’t last long.”

“I mean,” Mike hunches forward, “it makes sense. You two have acted like there’s some deeper understanding between you two.”

Rafael scoffs. “Oh, come on. We aren’t that obvious.”

“Just a little.”

“I’m with Rafael here,” Nick says. “If we were suspicious, the entire squad would know about it.”

“Do they?” Sonny asks.

“Why would they? We weren’t dating.”

“Yeah, but were you obvious about it?”

“We were fuck buddies,” Rafael points out.

Sonny gives him an unimpressed look. “Define ‘fuck buddies.’”

* * *

Rafael arches his back when Nick swivels his hips down and pulls his dick in further than it already is—if it’s even possible, with how much Rafael is already inside him to the base. Watching them is a dizzying experience—Mike and Sonny haven’t been able to take their eyes off of either of them since they began—but to experience it is just as enticing.

Nick clenches and moans when Rafael digs his fingers into his thighs. He keeps his eyes forward to avoid the distractions he knows Sonny and Mike will cause. Their eyes have been boring into them, unmoving and starving, for a good portion of the night. And as much as he wants to look over at them to give them a taste of the experience, his sole focus in this current moment is Rafael Barba.

“Fuck,” Rafael breathes out. His hands drop from Nick’s hips to clench in the bedsheets beneath him.

Nick chuckles when he rolls his hips, what feels like inches away from his prostate. “You’re losing your touch. You used to be able to hit my prostate head-on.”

Rafael grits his teeth and moves just a bit to the right, and Nick shudders at the imploding pleasure that erupts from the contact. “What about now?” Rafael smirks.

“Holy shit,” Mike mumbles under his breath. Sonny just nods, unable to form the words to properly make his request, and shifts to ease some of the pressure at the front of his pants. “Why didn’t we know about this sooner?”

“I’m a man of my word,  _ oso _ ,” Nick says, stroking his cock to the tune of Rafael pistoning further within and shaky breathing. “Maybe I can show it to you.”

Rafael gasps. “I’m open to negotiation.”

Mike and Sonny share a look that evokes only a small part of what they’re about to plan for their night.

* * *

“How was the weekend?” Fin asks as Mike drops off his coffee order.

“Not much out of the ordinary,” Mike smiles. “Nick and I were gonna try to get to Fire Island for a long weekend, but we ended up missing the ferry.”

It’s a partial lie—Mike and Nick joined Rafael and Sonny at an Airbnb on the Island for a long weekend. The three sets of bite marks along Mike’s back and shoulders prove otherwise. But the four of them agreed on keeping their weekend a secret. It was only for them—no one else needs to know about it.

“All that macking, Sarge,” Sonny pipes in with a smirk, “next thing you know, you’re running late to work and Mass.”

“Speaking from personal experience?” Nick fires back.

Sonny rolls his eyes as the trio laugh. Rafael strolls in then and looks across the room; Nick and Sonny are the exact distance away from where they held Mike between them, taking turns fucking into him until he was prepared to take both. Rafael would have watched it if his mouth wasn’t full of Mike’s dick, steaming hot in his mouth and leaking on his tongue, but the sounds were enough to please him until the three could pull him apart afterward.

“I hope NYPD’s finest isn’t slacking off again,” Rafael says. He stops next to Sonny for a kiss and keeps his eyes on Mike, partially for his reaction but also to remind him of the way Sonny worshipped his body while Nick bent Mike over and pushed slowly into him. With the way Mike straightens up and lightly holds onto his wrist, it works.

Nick looks at Rafael—if he stares hard enough, he can locate the mark on his neck that Sonny and Mike took turns on. It would have been primarily Sonny’s work if he hadn’t been compelled to show off how deep he could take Nick into his throat. (For the record, and to Mike’s agreement, Sonny Carisi has a mouth designed for deepthroating cock.) “What do you have for us, Barba?”

Sonny tries not to react to the way he says his boyfriend’s name. He hadn’t expected for Nick to be so vocal in bed, always with something to say with that fucking smirk, whispering and moaning and gasping. Rafael was noisy when it came to sounds, but Nick ran his mouth more than he did outside of sex. Maybe that’s how Rafael felt dealing with Sonny, given the number of times he couldn’t shut himself up.

They get to work, their secret lingering as fond but distant memories. Sonny makes a mental list of different ways he can woo Rafael, as if he wasn’t his to begin with; Rafael still doesn’t believe he was fortunate enough to earn someone like Sonny to love him so much; Nick thanks whatever deity wants to listen that he found someone to bring love into his life again; Mike is glad he got the chance to cross their paths in the first place.


End file.
